Angel of Vengeance
by Mischief Mage
Summary: FE7 JaffarXNino. Six years after the battle with Nergal, Jaffar is on the run from bounty hunters, one of which is one of Nergal's eariler morphs. Nino who has been looking for Jaffar turns up and gets caught in the violence,leaving Jaffar to plot revenge
1. Chapter 1

**Mischief Mage:** Hi all! This fic is set six years after the battle with Nergal. I read somewhere that Nino was about 14 so she should be 20. If i read wrong, then...just pretend she's 20 anway. I don't know how long this fic is gonna be. Please R&R

* * *

It was a perfectly normal, seedy bar. It was in at the edge of a small village at the edge of Ostia. It was dingy and dark with few people, a wooden sign inscribed with the words "Loyal Lucretia" swung creakily on rusty hinges above the open doorway. An unshaven bartender was drying tankards that hadn't actually been washed, his apron stained with egg yolk probably from the week before. Small groups of tired men sat hunched over dimly lit tables, grubby cards laid before them. Meagre piles of coins were pushed in and pulled out of the centre every round, grumbles and moans as the stained coins were simply moved about the table. It was just as Jaffar wanted it.

The red haired assassin sat in the second furthest corner from the flickering candle light, head bowed over an empty shot glass. He would have sat further away but that corner had already been taken by another cloaked wanderer.

It had been six years since the conflict with Nergal. For most of Elibe, the six years had been years of prosperity and peace, but not for Jaffar. It was true that he had had a short time of happiness with his beloved Nino. They had been given a seaside cottage in Pherae where they lived together with their twin sons. But that had all ended a year ago when bounty hunters arrived in Pherae, searching for the infamous Angel of Death. With a family to protect, Jaffar had fled into the wilderness, leaving Nino with the two boys. It pained Jaffar to leave Nino, but her safety meant more to him than his own comfort. So now here he was, flitting between nations, his help in the defeat of Nergal made his entry to all nations possible, if unwelcome.

Jaffar sighed and trudged towards the door, flicking a coin onto the bar top as he passed, he heard it clatter has he traded the dim candle light for the pale moonlight outside.

It was a cool evening, the sky clear, no clouds present to blanket the land. Jaffar rapped his travelling cloak around himself more tightly and began walking quickly towards the equally dingy inn at the other end of the village. The innkeeper had made it clear that he would be barring the door at midnight, hardly necessary during times of peace but as he had said, old habits die hard.

Jaffar quickened his pace but stopped abruptly as he heard footsteps on the cobblestones behind him. His right hand snaked its way down to the dagger that he held in his belt, he slid it out silently. The footsteps came closer. The assassin whirled around, blade ready to see…

One of the groups of card players at the bar. Intoxicated, they zigzagged down the path before turning off into a side street. Jaffar took a breath. It was always good to be cautious. But the time for being cautious and avoiding danger had come and gone. He turned to face the small band of hooded men that had silently slid in behind him, blocking his path onward.

"It seems we meet again, Angel of death" said the hooded figure at the very front of the group, amused.

"Ares" Jaffar muttered.

The man called Ares pulled back his hood, his short raven black hair glinting in the moonlight. His amber eyes glowed in the darkness. The men on either side of him also lowered their hoods; cropped silver hair appeared from beneath one, blood red beneath the other.

"Deimos and Phobos" Jaffar said in disgust.

They were bounty hunters, all of them. They had found him, again.

"Come now Jaffar, how long did you really think you could elude us for?" Ares said lightly, his amber eyes leering.

Jaffar did not answer; he had been pursued by the same three men for a year now. They were joined by various hanger-ons but there had always been the same three leading them. Jaffar knew little of Ares's lackeys, Deimos and Phobos, but his time in the black fang had taught him much about Ares. The man had been Nergal's first successful experiment before Ephidel, Limistella and Sonia.

Jaffar had dealt with morphs before; there was no reason why he could not dispatch Ares just as easily and make his escape. Jaffar's other hand gripped the handle of his other dagger tightly and slipped it out from his belt.

"Oh, so you're going to fight us are you?" the tall morph laughed, his inhuman eyes noticing the slightest movements beneath Jaffar's cloak.

"What do you think?" Jaffar replied viciously, now pulling his two daggers out into the open, the moonlight catching on the blades.

"Good" Ares said, pulling a polished black bow from his back and nocking a steel arrow.

The others pulled out their weapons as well, light flashing as blades were pulled from sheaths into the cool night air.

"Now stand still" the morph said calmly, taking aim. He released.

Jaffar dodged, daggers ready. Ares had known that he would miss the first shot; it was simply a way to begin the skirmish.

The men behind Ares leapt forward, pulling their weapons back, preparing to strike. Blades slashed and clanged all around Jaffar as he contorted his body in the frenzied acrobatics that were what kept him from being sliced by the storm cloud of swords. He leapt, twisted, turned, ducked and when ever he was given a moments respite, he slashed at the nearest bounty hunter, his sharpened blades cutting a ragged line in his foes throat. Men fell to the hard ground, blood trickling down their necks from gaping wounds.

Every few moments, Jaffar would hear the hiss of an arrow as it speed through the air towards his chest, he would duck, slicing at the heels of the enemy, rendering them immobile while he avoided being plugged with steel.

The numbers of hunters dwindled, but still they leapt at Jaffar with reckless abandon. Ares held back, unconcerned that his band of fearless bounty hunters now only consisted of himself, Deimos, Phobos and another man, who as being gutted by Jaffar at that very moment.

The anonymous man feel to the ground beside his comrades, gurgling, as dark blood trailed down from the corners of his mouth.

Once again, Jaffar heard the rush of an arrow heading in his direction, he ducked, and at that moment realised that that arrow was not aimed at his upper body, but his calf.

The arrow pierced his flesh; Jaffar lost all strength in his left leg. He swayed before falling, bruising his wrist as he tried to stop himself from hitting the hard cobblestones.

All of Jaffar's being seemed to centre around the wound in his leg while his wrist reminded him that it was there with every throb of pain. Jaffar's daggers clattered to the ground as he grasped his now swelling wrist.

From a short distance away, Jaffar heard the stretching of a bowstring as Ares pulled it back to fire one last arrow.

Jaffar waited, eyes shut tight. His time had come.

_Nino_

"Jaffar!"

The assasin's eyes snapped open. It couldn't be!

It was.

The shape of a woman had slipped down off a pale horse and was now rushing towards him, seemingly unaware of the three dark figures that were the bounty hunters. Jaffar lifted a hand to try and signal for her to stop. But she continued running, leaf green hair flying out behind her as she ran.

Phobos stepped out in front of the woman, one arm held his blade towards her.

"Keep away wench! Keep away from him or-"

Phobos was cut short. The woman had pulled out a thick tome and had whispered something inaudible. Within seconds Phobos had been completely engulfed in bright orange flames, only his shrieks and screams could be heard, his darkening body writhing within the ring of flames.

As Deimos stared in horror, and Ares in interest, the woman rushed to Jaffar's side and knelt beside him.

Jaffar looked up into her face, "Nino" he whispered, grimacing in pain, "Get away from here"

Nino was no longer a child, after six years, she had become a woman, her hair was long, she was taller, more mature, but she still loved Jaffar as she had all those years ago.

"I'm not leaving without you" Jaffar's young wife replied simply as she pulled a slender staff from beneath her thick woollen cloak. The tip glowed for a few moments and Jaffar felt the arrow pushed out as his muscle healed and the swelling in his wrist shrink.

Jaffar sat up straight and picked up the arrow that now lay on the ground, the drying blood showed how deep it had pierced, he shuddered inside.

Quickly dropping the arrow, Jaffar grabbed Nino by the shoulders and told her urgently,

"You've got to get out of here! Go home, protect our sons! They need you more than I do!"

"Jaffar" Nino said, wearily, "I only began this family for you, I wanted you to be happy. My heart broke when you left, I've been searching for you ever since, and now you tell me to leave! I will not leave your side again Jaffar, I love you and I will follow where ever you lead."

Jaffar tried to push Nino away but she remained where she was. Jaffar almost broke down. Here he was, away from his home trying to keep his wife out of danger and now she was here in the thick of it, refusing to budge. Jaffar felt both a joy at seeing her again but also an urgency to get her away from here as quickly as possible. He looked down into Nino's eyes, her luminous blue eyes which were now shining with tears. She threw her arms around his neck and began to sob into his neck.

Over Nino's shoulder, Jaffar could see Ares and Deimos standing behind the blacked body of Phobos, staring straight at him. Time seemed to slow as Ares began to nock another arrow.

"Nino!" Jaffar yelled urgently, trying to prise her off, "Nino!"

Are's lifted his midnight black bow, it creaked as he pulled back the bowstring.

"Nino, please!" Jaffar cried, desperation mixing with panic.

At that moment, Jaffar heard the twang of a bowstring. He gasped as he felt sharp metal cut against his vest. A vest which had been covered by Nino's body.

Jaffar felt Nino's body go limp, she would have fallen backwards if Jaffar hadn't held her in place. He held her body before him, gazing into her bright blue, unseeing eyes.

"Nino" he whispered shaking her gently, hoping that she would blink, wishing that life would return cold eyes.

"Nino!" he cried out again, trying to block out the messages his brain was sending him. Nino could not have died, not in his arms!

"NINO!" Jaffar screamed in her unmoving face, screaming to the life that he hoped still flickered somewhere in his wife's body.

No reply.

Jaffar stood, cradling Nino's body in his arms, fear and panic now being replaced by unbridled rage that threatened to burst forth, setting all that it touched alight.

Jaffar turned his gaze to Sceleris and Deimos, the man flinched openly as the resurrected angel of death stared at him from behind Jaffar's hard eyes. The morph could only sneer.

Inside, the Angel of Death conflicted with the Jaffar that Nino had unearthed all those years ago. Jaffar quietened the Angel with promises of satisfying vengeance, allowing him to turn and fly down the cobblestone path, towards the village gate and out into the shadowy wilderness, the limp body of his love in the arms that had failed to save her.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

All echoes of shouts had faded away. The moon shone over a thick forest just outside a village on the border of Ostia, its light illuminating a smoke that rose above a small clearing. 

Jaffar, the Angel of death stood beside a pyre, piled high with wood. He had laid the limp body of Nino across it and had set fire to it using the flint he carried with him in one of the many pockets in his cloak.

No patch of earth was deserving enough to house his beloved's body. Her spirit belonged with the true Angels. It would rise with the smoke to the heavens; St. Elimine would protect her on her journey. Because that's what St. Elimine did for the innocent, isn't it?

Head bowed, beside the column of fire, Jaffar let one tear paint a shining river down his cheek. It was shed for her, the only person who could move him as she did. It was made clear to him at that moment, in death or life, Jaffar's heart belonged to Nino, now and forever. Between the ground and the cold stars in the heavens above, there was no one who would take her place.

Jaffar knew this in his heart, his belief as unshakable as the earth, as the curling smoke rose into the sky, paving a pathway which a young soul would follow on silver wings.

* * *

Jaffar remained beside the funeral pyre until the sun peeked over the horizon as though afraid. He returned to the inn, the gruff keeper letting him in grudgingly. Jaffar had a letter to write

* * *

The assassin now sat at a rough edged desk, an equally shabby quill clutched in his hand, an unfamiliar tool. He sighed, knocking his fist against his head in frustration, trying to put an end to the rambling letter that he had written. He composed himself and continued. 

…_Matthew, the man's name is Sceleris. He is the last of Nergal's creations. He willingly surrendered his love and life for the enhanced archery abilities that becoming a morph would grant him. I will not rest until Nino is avenged. I want you to be there. Do it for Leila and if not for her, then for me. I need your help._

_Jaffar_

The assassin signed the end of his letter and sealed it. Wandering through the town, he was able to find an eager young man who agreed to take the letter to the Castle and to deliver it to Matthew as quickly as possible. Coins exchanged hands. Jaffar watched as the villager disappeared into the distance. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the pendant Nino had given him six years ago. He had considered placing it on the pyre with her at first, but, as the last piece of Nino that remained in the mortal world, he wanted it to be present when the cost of taking her life was exacted.

Jaffar returned to the inn, collected his few belongings and marched to the abandoned store house that was located at one corner of the village. He did not wear his cloak, held his head high and strode through the crowds of bustling people, sensing their fear as they saw the face of the man who had been the subject of so many "wanted" posters.

The store house was rundown, glass shattered, much of the wood rotted by too many winters. Jaffar roughly kicked the door through and strode into the centre of the empty building, looking around in mild interest. In every recess, countless spiders had made their abodes. Sunlight pushed through the dusty remains of windows, catching the dust that hung in the air.

Like the spiders that had been the only inhabitants of the store house, Jaffar settled into the darkest corner, pulled out his two faithful daggers and a stone, and began to sharpen his blades. He could only wait now, for the buzzing insects to stumble unwittingly into his trap.

* * *

The light dimmed even more than it already had. It was gradually replaced with moonlight, which, pale with illness, could hardly cast any light through the dirty broken shards of glass. 

Jaffar's blades were as sharp as they would ever be. He lay them down beside his leg, but in easy reach in case the hunters came earlier then planned. But he knew them; they only sought him out at night, when innocents could be "protected" from the methods necessary to bring down villains such as himself.

A thin lipped smile stretched itself across the face of the assassin. Sceleris was more of a villain than Jaffar would ever be. He had traded his emotion in so that his natural weaknesses could be replaced with body enhancing dark magic. The magic turned his hair jet black and the malevolent glow of the spell began to shine out of the man's eyes. Sceleris was now half morph, he lacked the magical prowess of Nergal's later creations, but his skills in archery had made him just as much a threat from a distance as Ephidel, Limistella and Sonia had been. It had been both luck and Jaffar's own unearthly agility that had saved him from the sting of Sceleris's trademark steel arrows. How ironic that it was this monstrosity that now pursued him. For Nino's revenge to be taken, Jaffar would need luck and assistance again, just as he had the night before...before…

The man held his eyes tightly closed, only the smallest of droplets leaking out from the corners of his eyes. If there was one time where the Angel of Death's unmerciful will was needed, it was now. Jaffar would need to be burned in the fires within the Angel's soul. The Angel would rise again.

Jaffar readied himself, and stood up, clapping the dust off of his dark clothes. He bent down and picked up his daggers before facing the figures that had come through the fragmented doorway. A total of eleven silhouettes against the moonlit sky.

* * *

**Mishchief mage:** Sorry for the short chapter. I've figured it out, it will be a three chapter fic with two long chapters and a short one in the middle...and this was it.  



	3. Chapter 3

* * *

It did not take Jaffar any time to figure out who the man in the front was. A familiar amused voice echoed through open space.

"Sulking are we Jaffar?" it said in a voice of mock surprise, every syllable overflowing with provocation.

Jaffar paid no heed.

"Oh dear, did I upset you? Did I break your dear doll?" Jaffar could almost hear Sceleris sneer. Jaffar's insides began to pace slowly.

Sceleris could not see the slight change in Jaffar so he continued.

"How typical, you let a wild dog into your home and it simply makes and mess and takes what it pleases."

The beast within Jaffar stopped pacing for a moment. Sceleris had already left by the time Jaffar had been brought into the Black Fang, how did he know about Jaffar fleeing with Nino, yet how could his have been referring to anything else? The assassin suddenly began to doubt that Sceleris was only after his head for the bounty.

"What do you know of the black fang?" Jaffar asked roughly.

"More than you might think. I know that you became Nergal's little eye-dog, running around within the black fang, keeping an eye on everything. It was all fine until that wench caught your eye."

The hooded figure shook his head slowly, tutting

"I told Nergal that it was a mistake, I would never have been sidetracked like that. Oh?" he had obviously seen Jaffar's look of surprise, "You didn't know? Who do you think Nergal had before you? Do you truly think that that insane man could have handled himself without his morphs? His power wasn't great enough before them, but he had _me_. In exchange he continued his work on my body, perfecting it, working on the already impressive slate that life had given me."

Jaffar had to know.

"Why _are _you trying to kill me?"

Sceleris laughed dryly, "You're right to wonder. The bounty on your head isn't nearly as valuable as the prize that I would receive from destroying you"

He spat in the ground before going on.

"When you and your 'friends' destroyed Nergal, you destroyed the only living man who could give me perfection. If he had been alive, I would be a God! No man could have challenged me! But no" he flicked the black hood off of his head, amber eyes glared at Jaffar eerily through the semi-darkness. "No, you destroyed him. I had given up my life for the chance of perfection only to have it stolen by the likes of you. Unworthy as you are, it is right for me to sate my craving for vengeance."

Sceleris smiled, his teeth gleaming like a panther who will give his victim a cheery grin before diving for its throat.

"But I also wish to satisfy my curiosity. I was replaced by you. But I am as close to becoming the God of archery as anyone will ever be, so why? I asked myself, why were your services favoured over mine? Could it be that the old man was afraid of me? Or could it possibly be that this "Angel of Death" had in fact surpassed my own skills? I shall find out tonight I think"

The smile grew wider whilst his eyes gleamed brighter. He raised a gloved hand and motioned with his fingers. The ten other men came forward, Deimos at the front.

Jaffar scanned the hooded faces; they looked like the usual lot that Sceleris would bring in to form a protective lining of flesh between himself and Jaffar.

"The joy of the hunt is over" Sceleris said, pulling out his bow and stringing an arrow, "It ends now"

As it had so many times before, the battle began with the whistle of an arrow as it sliced the air. The anonymous bounty hunters leapt at Jaffar, blades flashing back and forth. Two fell within seconds, the more skilled lasting only slightly longer.

Blades clanged, arrows whistled, strangled cries echoed out into the night as the fight raged, clouds of dust rising as many pairs of boots danced across the ground to a violent melody.

Soon, there were only four left living in the room, Jaffar, Sceleris, Deimos and one more anonymous hunter. Jaffar felt as though his very being was on fire, a strange flame threatening to leap from within him, revenge was close, so close. But as he turned, he froze as he saw Deimos raise a thick book. It seemed that Sceleiris's henchman had more skills then Jaffar had given them credit for.

Jaffar was near unstoppable in one-to-one battle. Magic was different, it was harder to avoid and when it _did_ hit…

Almost as Jaffar thought this, a whirlwind of ice blew up about him, icicles cutting as it passed. The freezing cold froze the sweat on his skin while the speed of the wind sucked the oxygen from the air, suffocating him. Jaffar crouched down, gasping, the ends of his limbs going numb with cold. He didn't know what to do, what could daggers to against magic?

But the rush of the wind in his ears slowed, then stopped. The temperature returned to normal and Jaffar breathed deeply, oxygen and warmth rushing to his lungs. He put his hands out in front of him to stop himself from falling and looked to Deimos, the caster.

The man lay on the ground, eyes wide and staring. Behind him stood the final bounty hunter, but it wasn't a bounty hunter. Hood down, Jaffar saw light brown hair and eyes, along with the flash of a grin.

Matthew.

Jaffar almost sighed in relief. He looked more closely at the Ostian assassin. The six years since the battle with Nergal had been hard for him. Without the direction or the danger of the quest, Matthew's mind had been left to dwell on his loss. It was clear that Leila remained within his thoughts even now. Jaffar had a feeling of slight remorse for having been the one who killed her.

Sceleris looked worried for a short while, but quickly composed himself.

"It makes no difference." he whispered.

Quick as a flash, he had pulled an arrow from his quiver and fired it. Pinpoint accuracy against almost inhuman reflexes and agility.

The arrow hit its target, Jaffar, but had only embedded itself in his thigh. Matthew looked on, his face showing only the slightest signs of concern, Jaffar, of all people, could handle himself.

Jaffar's face showed no sign of having sustained the wound. He looked down at the shaft of the arrow that protruded from his leg with mild interest. Then he made _his_ move.

Jaffar had leapt at the half-morph with speed equal to that of the drawing on the arrow, knocking him to the ground. Sceleris's smug face was replaced with one with surprise. The hunter tried to draw an arrow from his seemingly bottomless quiver, but Jaffar was too quick. He bent down and sliced the strap of the quiver before kicking it into the far corner of the room and catching the morph's wrists with his hand and pushing his knees down on Sceleris's chest, immobilising him.

Now the morph's face contorted in rage, his first true show of emotion. He glared up at Jaffar with more rage in his expression than Jaffar thought possible in a person.

"So maybe the lap-dog is faster than me" Sceleris hissed, baring his teeth, "You might kill me, but the victory will still be mine! That arrow, it was dipped in the venom of the most hated creatures that wander this earth. Your strength has spared you for now but just wait, just wait. I might die by your hand, but you'll die by mine! Finish me now, you're revenge will be fulfilled, it does not matter, either way, you were killed by _me_"

But to the morph's surprise, the weight on his chest was lifted, he gasped, his lungs filling with air. Jaffar had moved his knees to the floor where he now crouched, still holding Sceleris's in a grip like a vice.

"I'm not going to kill you," Jaffar whispered, his eyes shadowed, "You took Nino from me, you stole the energy that directed my life, to kill you will not suffice."

"I'm afraid that you don't won't have enough time to do much else" the morph replied, sneering now, the risk of him being killed seemed to have lessened slightly, "your time is trickling away, you'll be with your _precious_ wife within minutes"

Jaffar's lips had upturned slightly.

"You're right" he whispered quietly, but the morph could hear every word. "I'm not going to kill you. But I will have my revenge"

At this, Jaffar lifted his dagger and held out four of the ten of Sceleris's fingers, the index and middle fingers of each hand. Sceleris's luminous eyes widened as the realisation dawned. He tried to yank his hands out from Jaffar's steel grip. Jaffar brought the dagger down, its blade plummeting like a hawk towards its prey, the four wriggling fingers.

* * *

Matthew stood behind the two. He didn't hear when the cut was made, but he did hear Sceleris's screams of both agony and despair. He saw Jaffar rise. Sceleris remained on the ground, staring at the two bleeding stumps on each on his hands where his index and middle fingers had been, unbelieving.

Jaffar now spoke in a harsh voice.

"You were going to leave me without the thing I loved more than life itself, now I'm going to leave you without your most prized possession, your archery skills. You can't shoot a bow without those two fingers can you? I know your type, you're strength and resistance will make yourself hard to kill, you will be forced to wander, having traded your previous life for something that you've now lost."

The pathetic figure on the floor laughed, a laugh empty of any mirth.

"I might have paid the price of your vengeance, but you have forgotten. I can see you weakening now, the poison is taking effect. In refusing to kill me, it will be I who comes out top! I will have killed the infamous Angel of Death. It may be a hollow victory, but I will still have defeated you and there is nothing that you can do to stop it!"

Sceleris was right, Jaffar's breathing had become laboured, he began to feel light headed. He tried to use his determination to delay death for just a few more minutes.

"That's where you're wrong, Sceleris"

Matthew walked up behind Jaffar. Jaffar closed his eyes slowly.

* * *

Matthew wandered out into the night, Sceleris's screams echoing out from within the store house. He wiped his bloody knife on a stained brown cloth. When all red traces had been removed, he returned his trusty dagger to its sheath, the hilt making a slight click as it slid into place.

Matthew sighed and put his hand to his brow. Every night of every year since defeating Nergal, Leila had never left his thoughts. He could picture her as he had last seen her, on Death Isle, body limp. He remembered his rage, his lust for vengeance. He would have given anything to avenge Leila, but now he had seen how far a man would go to get it, he wasn't so sure.

Matthew shuddered, when he had received Jaffar's letter, he had learnt what his friend had wanted. Matthew knew of Jaffar's devotion, but had not expected that he would be forced to play an active part in his revenge.

When Matthew thought now, Jaffar could not have lost tonight, he would not have conceded a single point, he had exacted his share of vengeance, had rid himself of his guilt, had prevented Sceleris from claiming the bounty on his head, and had taken the only option that was left to him in this life without Nino. Matthew was glad that he had befriended Jaffar rather than continue to try and kill him.

Matthew took a deep breath. He pulled the letter sent to him by Jaffar from his pocket and unfolded it, skim reading it a final time. He let it flutter to the ground; the moonlight catching a line of words as it fell,

"…_for Leila…"_

There would be no sleep for him tonight.

* * *

The last thing that Jaffar saw as he closed his eyes was Sceleris lying before him, defeated by the resurrected Angel of Death. Jaffar had won, yet he felt so cold. Nino had been avenged, his guilt for having killed Leila was about to be lifted and he was not going to be killed by Sceleris's arrow. So why did he feel so hollow?

Jaffar heard Matthew's reluctant footsteps. His friend Matthew, whom he had stolen a dear thing from. He could not return what he had taken, but he could try to pay for it.

Jaffar could almost sense the knife that his fellow assassin raised. He felt his friend hesitate.

"Do it Matthew. For her" he whispered gently

Jaffar did not actually feel the clean cut across his throat. But his eyes snapped open. He didn't feel as he fell to the hard floor. There was only a swirl of rushing black and white. He could feel the Angel of Death rising from his body, having served its purpose, leaving his mortal body limp across the floor. The angel's blinding presence gone, it left only Jaffar, all thoughts of blood shed and vengeance replaced. Three words that echoed through the caverns of his once hollow heart.

…_Nino…I'm coming…_

_

* * *

_**Mishchief Mage:** That's it. Yup that's it. I kinda rushed the end abit so it might not be quite as good as the other chapters. Thanks for reading. Please review if you have time _  
_


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